Intimacy
by singingstarryknights
Summary: Repost. At the end of the day, all you really needed was intimacy. NickSara, companion to 'Rashomama.'


Intimacy

………

At the end of the day, all you really needed was intimacy.

………

Companion to 'Rashomama' 6x21.

………

She let him tumble her over onto her back, wincing as he landed on top of her. His lips covered hers possessively, and she moaned softly as the taste of him made her knees fall open slightly. She supposed it was her fault all along. She had worn a skirt to court. She never wore skirts, but she'd been on a steady diet of double shifts, and neither of them had gotten around to doing the laundry, and suddenly she found herself wondering what the fabric of his dress pants would feel like rubbed up against the inside of her thigh.

Intoxicating, by the way.

She winced again, gasping as the cool metal of his belt buckle came into contact with the thin cotton of her panties, and she knitted her fingers through his hair in an attempt to pull him closer still. He groaned into her mouth, pulling away from her kiss to turn his sinful attentiveness to her neck. She always scolded him when he started to do this, arching into him, but telling him not to leave a mark.

She couldn't find any words, however, but somewhere in the pit of her stomach, where the pressure was building, she didn't care. Wanted him to mark her, claim her, love her. His fingers brushed along the inside of her thigh, and she cringed with anticipation, breathing out a whimper that vibrated through her throat, against his skin. She ran her hands along the broad plain of his shoulders, trying in vain to pull him closer again, arching into his hand, squirming listlessly from his less than gentlemanly kisses.

He pushed against her, willing her to wrap a slender leg around his hip, breaking contact with her collarbone to catch her eye.

"We should forget to do laundry more often." His voice had a husky, feral quality to it that burned the pressure in her hips.

She smiled at him, biting her bottom lip, wondering just how it got this far. This morning they were sitting side by side comfortably at the courthouse, patiently waiting for their turn to testify in the Hernandez-Jones Case, two cups of coffee and a bagel between them. Now, however, there were only precious few layers of clothes separating his skin from hers. They couldn't help themselves as of late, these past few months had been a revisitation to the 'I can't keep my hands off you I need you inside of me right now' phase. Maybe they were addicts. They were definitely worse than teenagers on prom night.

"Sara." He hadn't moved to untangle his hips from hers, she could feel him pressing into the inside of her thigh, but he paused, brushing a stray curl from her face, before shifting to rest over her, trapping her against the mattress, pressing her hips down with the weight of his own. She pulled him down to her, crashing her lips against his, sliding her fingers along his body, to the metal of his belt, adeptly unfastening it, and pushing his pants lower around his hips. He pushed against her, and she forgot what she was doing, arching into him and resting her head back against the pillow.

"Too many clothes."

His husky, uninhibited chuckle vibrated through her, lighting the burning pressure in her hips. He captured her lip between both of his own, turning their kiss suddenly into a slow, deliberate, intimate contact. He ran his fingers along the buttons of her shirt, popping them open one at a time in a swift, practiced motion. She shoved his oxford shirt off his shoulders, letting him toss it on the floor as she ran her fingers along the muscles instead. He hiked up her skirt so it pooled around her waist, the cool of the metal of the belt buckle long gone, discarded on the floor, and now, in it's wake, the rough pad of his fingers, eliciting a gasp from her as they touched the cotton of her panties.

"_Nick_." He smiled as she arched into him, in an effort to squirm away from his touch. "Please." The hitch in her voice caused him to almost lose control, and he slid into her quickly, pushing her leg away to sink into her further. She groaned against his mouth, wrapping her leg around him, pushing him in further still. He dropped his kisses to the under side of her jaw, gaining leverage, hitting her at a different angle, causing her to curse under her breath. It was a game for him, really, how many sexy noises can he get Sara to make this time. It was his favorite game, depressingly enough, one he learned from Greg, of all people, during the younger man's torrid love affair with the redhead from PD.

He glanced at Sara before catching her lips again, and grinned against her mouth. He was thirty-five years old, so was she, but times like these made him feel eighteen again. Distracted with his thoughts, the woman beneath him pushed him over, and rolled him onto his back, landing on top of him, without breaking their contact. He ran his hands along the curve of her hips, letting a moan slip as she swiveled the angle only just.

"_Fuck_, Sara." She only smiled sweetly at him, and bent over him to run her tongue along his jaw, and when she took his earlobe between her lips, he lost it, flipping her over wildly, and pushing into her one last time as she threw him into release. He collapsed over her, acquiescing as she wrapped her legs around him, stilling his movements, but remaining inside her. She laid a gentle hand along the side of his face, and he pulled back enough to offer her a smile, and accept the affectionate, gentle kiss she placed to his lips. He smiled against her mouth mischeviously.

"We should definitely forget to do laundry more often." She laughed against him, deepening their kiss for a moment, before unwrapping her legs form around his waist, but holding him stagnant with her knees.

"Especially when one of us has the night off and one of us is on vacation." He nodded, twisting away from her slightly to reach over to the nightstand, rummaging around with one hand. "What are you looking for?" She shifted, propping her shoulders up on the pillow, and he scrunched his features up in concentration as he brushed his fingertips against the ring box. He popped it open, pulling out the ring and shutting the drawer, holding the diamond in the palm of his closed fist. He pulled out of her slowly, sitting back cross-legged with the sheet draped suggestively over his lap. She sat up, both of her legs draped over both of his thighs, her attention on him completely.

"I, um." He glanced at her before turning his gaze to his balled fist. He held out his hand before her, fingers still curled around his palm, and smiled sweetly at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling gently. "I love you. And I want to tell the world that I love you." He opened his palm, revealing the sparkly diamond on a thin gold band. "Will you marry me, Sara?"

She froze.

Marriage.

Oh god.

"Nick." She glanced up at his soft smile, and her heart broke. No. They couldn't get married. Ecklie would obviously find out, they'd be put on separate shifts, not allowed to work together, oh god, marriage, marriage would ruin everything.

"Sara." She brought her hand up, gently touching the side of his cheek, rough with his stubble. He pressed a delicate kiss to her palm, and tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision. Probably better that way, she didn't want to look at him when she said no.

"Nick, I-"

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Sara, I want to love you forever."

"I can't marry you, Nick." She blinked away her tears, and watched as his smile crumbled into a frown from the rejection.

"What? Why?" He bit his lip, trying stop the tear from falling. He paused, examining the diamond in his hand briefly before placing the ring on the bed in front of her, and climbing out of the sheets, pulling his boxers over his hips and slinging his arms through the sleeves of his hoodie as he made his way out the bedroom door, mumbling about dry wells and what they can teach about water.

That was not the way he had wanted this day in his life to go. And he needed to put space between himself and his _girlfriend_ before he said a few things he would regret later on. He ignored her voice coming from the doorway of the bedroom, opting instead to make his way to the back of the house, and flop down on the stoop, choosing to prop his elbows up on his knees, and stare out at Maverick sleeping under the tree in the backyard.

She had said no.

Was he not around enough? That was ridiculous, they were together all day everyday, at the lab or at home. Did he not show her how much she meant to him enough? That was as equally ridiculous, they were always stealing moments, sending messages, leaving notes, he had gone with her to Frisco when her mother had died, he had brought her to Texas to meet his family. Catherine had been so supportive, told him there was no way she would refuse, after all, guys like him don't come around every day. Greg had, once he had gotten over the thirty seconds of singsong teasing, given him a hug, and promised him that if he hurt her in any way shape of form he would dismember his body and hide the evidence, friend or no. No one had entertained the notion of Sara saying no. Given him seemingly false hope.

He rolled his head to the side, resting his cheek against his arms as he watched her sit down on the stoop beside him. Her hair was unruly, flying gently with the breeze, catching the soft glow of the Nevada sun falling out of the sky. She watched Maverick as he perked his ears up at a passing car, and, when he noticed the pair sitting on the stoop, slowly making his way to Nick, and nudging him affectionately before curling up to his side, between him and Sara. Nick absently scratched between the golden retriever's ears, stroking his side. She had broken his heart, probably didn't even realize just how many pieces it had busted into, which would be typical Sara. Be the tornado, think about the pieces afterward.

"Nick, I-"

"Forget it." He cleared his throat, rubbing Maverick's belly as the old dog twisted around under his touch. "I don't know what I was thinking. I love you, I want a family with you, I want to share my life with you."

"We don't do that now?"

"That ain't what I mean and you know it." He rubbed at his eye, and glanced over at her, trying to not cry. Not crying. That's what men from Texas did. He had to focus on not crying.

"Your accent's getting all thick, Nicky."

"Well, if you're not marrying me because of my accent I reckon we got a host of other troubles." He smiled faintly, pleased to see the tension in her shoulders wan a bit. They could work through this. They could find a compromise. She smiled a bit, sadly, and he turned his attention back to Maverick.

"All I'm saying is I don't need a slip of paper and a few pieces of jewelry to measure my feelings."

"And all I'm saying is that I want that piece of paper, those few pieces of jewelry."

"Nick, we see the horrible things husbands and wives do to each other everyday. Every night there's some kind of domestic abuse case, some kind of cheating something, some kind of-"

"We got those cases with boyfriends and girlfriends, too."

"That's not my point. I really do love you, Nicky, I love you more than anything. But I don't want our lives to be a case file years down the line, I don't want to live up to everyone's expectations."

"Forget about work, Sara, for a minute. Please. This is not about the lab, it's not about the dead bodies or the crime scenes, or the cheating spouses. This is about you and me."

"Why can't it stay you and me? Why mess with what we have?"

"Getting married is not messing with anything, Sara, getting married is the next step."

"Yeah? Maybe I'm not ready for the next step."

"You're thirty-five, Sara, when are you going to be ready if not now?"

"Oh, I'm old now? Are you the kettle or the pot, because you're older."

"And that's not my point."

"Why do you want to get married, Nick?" Her direct question, coupled with her direct stare, caused him to frown. Had he not been explaining this to her all along?

"I guess that's who I am. I want to be married, have a bunch of kids, watch them grow, be the grandpa. I want to be your husband. I want to call you my wife." Sara smiled faintly at his sincerity, but shook her head, turning her gaze toward Maverick.

"My parents were married. Look what happened to them."

"My parents are married, look at _them_."

"All I'm saying is does it really matter what you call me? At the end of the day I'm still picking up your socks." There was a not-so awkward pause between them, giving Sara the impression he had seen her point.

"Okay." He rubbed his face a few times, closing their argument effectively, his defeated shoulders telling her that he didn't want to argue about it. He had set this whole thing up, taken a few days off from the lab so that they could revel in their engagement together. The thought hadn't even crossed his mind that she would say no. Not that he was cocky, he wasn't, but suddenly having her love was simply not enough, he had to get it on paper to know that it was real. He needed to know that this wasn't a dream, that they would be together for the remainder of their lives. He wanted, more than anything, a gold band on his finger, one that matched Sara's. He stood, running a hand through his shortened hair and stretching.

"Where are you going?"

"The lab."

"Nick, you took three vacation days."

"I'll put them back, then. I have enough paperwork to line the stalls at a- never mind. I have a lot." He whistled once, sharply, and Maverick scrambled to his feet, trotting after Nick back into the house. She watched his retreating form, and let out a sigh, not bothering to wipe away the tears falling from her eyes.

She had ruined everything.

She was gone when he got out of the shower, in her wake, Maverick lay across the bed, perking up at the sight of him as he changed quickly into jeans and a tee shirt, pulling on his sneakers, he was out of the house in a matter of minutes. Nick climbed into the Denali and pulled out, leaving Maverick to casually lick up some fresh water Sara had put out in the kitchen.

He slipped into the lab that night, avoiding everyone, and set down to work, holing himself up in an empty office with a stack of paperwork. Sooner or later she would come in. All he had to do what wait for her.

Sara left the house as soon as she heard the shower running. She climbed into her truck, and pulled out, losing herself in traffic. Her phone rang, and she didn't glance at it, knowing it was probably Nick. Ten minutes later, her phone rang again, and she tossed it in the glove compartment, continuing on with her plan of driving around aimlessly in the lab truck.

Forty minutes later she was sitting down on Greg's stoop.

She had thought he had had the night off, was supposed to, maybe he was out on a date or something. She needed to walk through this with him, to have him tell her everything between her and Nick was not lost.

That was where Greg found her as the sun was yawning out into the Nevada sky.

"Sara?" Greg hopped out of his truck, and squinted at her, closing the distance between them quickly. "Sara, what are you doing here?"

"I, um. Needed to see you." He cocked an eyebrow at her, pushing her halfway curly hair off her forehead and pressing the back of his palm against it. She turned away, wincing. "I'm not sick, Greg."

"Then what the hell are you doing out here? Where you out here all night? Sara? Did you forget you have a key?" She frowned, and realized that she did, indeed have a key to Greg's apartment on her ring. Beside the one to Nick's house. Nick. Oh fuck. She was a moron.

"He." She bit her lip, trying to find words, as Greg pulled her gently to her feet, and lead the way inside the cozy little apartment.

"Let's get some coffee in you, huh? Hot coffee, that warms you up. I can't believe you didn't just let yourself in, Sara, I gave you that key years ago." She sat down on the barstool at the counter, content to close her eyes and listen to him ramble on about the things she should have done. She should have called, she should have come in, she should have stopped by the lab. No. She should have said yes. She was a moron.

"You should have called me, Sara, anything but sitting outside for the whole night. Wait." He shut the coffee filter in the machine, and turned to her with a dishumored expression. "You were supposed to- what happened with Nick?"

"How did you know about that?"

"Because he was grinning like a fool and he showed me a diamond ring-" he paused, glancing at her finger, then back to her. "What happened, Sara?"

"I said no." It came out as a whisper, she blushed, opting to stare at her fingers instead of meeting Greg's compassionate gaze.

"D'you want to talk about it?" The coffee finished, and he stepped back to retrieve a mug, and filled it, stooping to drop a dab of cream in it for her.

"No. Thank you." She accepted the coffee from Greg, smiling when she realized he had made her Blue Hawaiian. Greg, for his part, distracted her by talking about clairvoyance and his Nana and the case he had just wrapped.

The next few days were difficult for both of them, Sara had started to realize the mistake she had made, and Nick was just trying to forget about his shattered heart. It was the crime scene at Cupid's Kiss that threw both of them over the edge, magnifying their feelings, each finding evidence, jumbled amidst the relevant forensics, backing up their side of the argument. The rest of the team just stayed out of their bickering, unwilling to interfere with what had obviously transpired between them. It was a breaking point, both of them seeming to be at their wit's end, neither of them bothering with an explanation; Greg knew what was going on, and Greg had a big mouth. Not to mention each member of the night shift played some role in Nick's proposal, and from the lack of ring on Sara's finger, could easily do the math.

The case was just a starting block for Nick and Sara, their argument intensified the ride home as well. The love that each felt for the other was clearly evident, they would have dropped it long ago had they both not been so willing to work it out.

"What the hell was all that today?" Sara dropped her jacket from her shoulders, draping it over Nick's couch before turning to him and arching a menacing eyebrow at him.

"What? Nothing." He was in trouble, he knew it. Serves her right. She said no, after all.

"That was not nothing, Nick. It doesn't matter with Greg, he knows, but Grissom, Grissom could split us up. Did you ever think about that? Did you think about that before you made your 'you sure know an awful lot about weddings' comment? Before you practically got on the PA system and announced our… thing over the intercom?"

"Our thing? Is that all this is to you? A thing? Don't worry about my feelings, Sar, I'm standing right here. You were the one modeling the lingerie asking for my hands." He frowned at her, not bothering to hide the hurt in his eyes.

"That was just a joke. And Greg knows."

"It doesn't matter if Greg knows. It doesn't matter if Grissom knows, or Brass. Or the fucking Governor, Sara. I want them to know. I love you. I love you and I want the world to know, that's why I asked you in the first place." He turned, pointing back toward the door. "I want everyone out there to know that you and I are going to be you and I forever. What's the matter with that?" He turned back to her, wiping his own tears from his eyes, leaving the space between them empty. When he spoke again his voice was shaky, and it broke her heart.

"Why don't you love me Sara?"

"I do." She closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, pulling him against her. "I do." She pulled back as he laid a hand on her hip, and brushed away his tears with the pad of her thumb gently. "I just can't, I can't marry you."

"Why? It's two words, Sara, and you just said them twice." Nick leaned her forehead against hers, his accent thickening due to fatigue and her unrelenting inability to agree to marry him.

"You look exhausted."

"Look at you changing the subject." He pulled away, walking by her and crawling up onto the couch. "Exhausted, yes. Exhausted from fighting about this. Exhausted from having my damn truck stolen, coming back like it spent the week with 'Pimp My Ride.' Exhausted from spending three months one on one with Catherine finding the perfect ring, hours and hours in the truck with Greg talking about how to ask you, drinking pots of coffee with Warrick last June trying to decide if even asking you out in the first place made any sort of sense, Sara. Yes. I'm exhausted. Yes. Its not a difficult word to say. Yes." She watched him lay on the couch, rubbing his eyes wearily.

Suddenly she understood. It wasn't that she had said no. It was that she had arched an eyebrow at him and told him marriage was ridiculous. It was that she had gotten up on a soapbox running her mouth on how stupid the institute of marriage was, how stupid the need for a piece of paper to validate human emotions was.

"I told you how I felt about this years ago, Nicky."

"Yeah, after swearing off men when whats-his-face treated you like shit."

"I don't need a piece of paper to know that I love you. Intimacy is what makes a marriage. Love. We have a marriage already, Nick, we don't need the paper." She tried to reason with him, but he waved her off dismissively.

"I'm tired, and I don't want to fight about it."

"If you were wearing a wedding ring d'you think that bridesmaid would have given you her number? That was a crucial piece of evidence in the long run, Nick." This was a poor argument, they both knew that. The hurt in his eyes sparkled gently with the threat of tears. Nick had never been one to hide his feelings very well.

"Are you really justifying not getting married because of the job?"

"Say we do get married. How will that change things?"

"People will know. I'll be able to kiss you in the lab and not just the locker room. I want to be able to shoot down Greg's sexual comments. I want to hold your hand, I don't want to have to sneak around anymore, like we're guilty of something. I want to say to those girls at crime scenes, hey no, I'm married thanks, and that's my wife, over there, processing your dead boyfriend, and she can kick you ass."

She was so mean. He had picked out a perfect ring. He had told her his plans to love her for the rest of his life. Asked her to marry him.

And she had said no.

She was a jerk. A big, huge, awkward, jerk.

He had paused, as if letting her refusal sink in, and then had bit his lip nervously, untangled himself from her legs, and left the room, mumbling some crazy Texan saying that she thought meant in English that he needed to get some fresh air. She had scrambled out of bed, reaching for one of his tee shirts, calling after him and following him out the door and down the hall. She had sat down beside him on his back porch, and had started to explain, but he smiled wearily at her, and ran his hand over Maverick's belly, shaking his head as if to dismiss her excuses and explanation.

She turned to him now, a few days later, seeing for the first time what her refusal to his proposal had done to him. He had been more than fine at work; witty, playful, comments flying off his tongue like a- she paused, smiling to herself when she realized she was about to use one of his crazy sayings. She wanted, desperately to be angry with him for practically outing them in front of the whole lab.

"I talked to Greg today."

"Yeah?"

"In the truck and at the diner."

"So what words of wisdom did our favorite level one have for you?"

"He said that it's important to you."

"It is. It was. I don't know." He smiled faintly at her, and she sat on the edge of the couch beside his hip, running her fingers through his short brown hair. He snaked an arm around her waist, and she climbed on top of him, laying stomach to stomach, resting her ear against his chest, listening to his heartbeat evenly beneath her. She felt him press a kiss to her hair, and she assumed he was toying with a few curls absently. They lay there in silence for several minutes, each trying to figure out what exactly they wanted to say to the other. Finally, Sara felt his soft Texan accent rumble through her as he broke the silence.

"May I suggest a compromise?" He felt her smile into his chest, and waited for her to look up at him before continuing.

"Sure."

"How about." He tilted his head to the side, relaxing against the armrest of the couch. "How about a state of perpetual engagement?" At her confused look, he continued, a gentle, charming smile creeping onto his lips. "How about I reword my proposal."

"Nicky-"

"How about," He thought for a moment, choosing his words carefully. He had searched for that damn ring with the intent of her wearing it, and it was burning a hole in the box, and had been for the three days it had sat stagnant on his dresser, staring at him every morning, mocking him every night. "How about will you love me forever?"

"I could say yes to that." His features broke into a grin, and she felt the tension leave him. "We can talk about the details after we both get some sleep. I don't want a wedding like that one, though." She smiled, settling against him, and closing her eyes as he pulled the throw blanket down over both of them.

"Arguin' bout it now's only gonna get us a diarrhea of words and a constipation of thoughts." She frowned against his chest, holding in a laugh. That was, arguably, the worst saying to ever come out of Texas.

"Your mother always says that 'nothing dries as quick as a tear.'" She missed his laugh, as he grinned against the crown of her head, and pressed a kiss to her hair. Sara was right, she was nearly always right. At the end of the day, all you really needed was intimacy. Maybe he'd get her to marry him after all.

………

A/N: I'll confess to being originally a Nick/Sara shipper. So I posted this, then I took it down after reading through it, and noticing there were some major inconsistencies that I couldn't handle. Now, after watching Rashomama again, I've found the energy and the drive to make this thing make some sort of sense. I love Greg, and I love him with Sara, but there's just something beautiful and tragic that draws me to Nick, every time. For my faithful Sandle readers, I apologize. Kudos to anyone who deciphers the Texan sayings embedded in a few places.


End file.
